


Your Arms Feel Like Home

by icandrawamoth



Series: Reincarnationverse [1]
Category: Star Wars - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends - All Media Types, Star Wars Legends: X-Wing Series - Aaron Allston & Michael Stackpole
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Alternate Universe - Reincarnation, Anal Sex, Crying, Emotional Sex, Explicit Sexual Content, First Meetings, Holding Hands, M/M, Mild Hurt/Comfort, Nightmares, Porn with Feelings, Reincarnation, wipweek
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-09-26
Updated: 2018-09-26
Packaged: 2019-07-17 16:50:17
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,612
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16099772
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/icandrawamoth/pseuds/icandrawamoth
Summary: It's like coming home. Like returning to a place he's never been but somehow knows beyond a doubt he belongs, and Wedge's heart is singing. This is what he's been waiting for all his life.Wedge and Tycho find each other in a new life.





	Your Arms Feel Like Home

**Author's Note:**

> Woo, the first fic chonologically of the Reincarnationverse is done! It's only been in my wip folder since _November_. Thanks for the push, wipweek!

The light rail train bumps and jerks as it switches tracks, sending Wedge stumbling, catching himself instinctively on a handhold on the other side of the car. When he looks up, the mundane thoughts of going home after a day's work, idle ponderings of what he'll make for dinner and do before he goes to sleep, evaporate as his eyes happen to land on another passenger as he rights himself, somehow singled out from the crowd. The man is seated a few rows away, angled away from Wedge and bending to look at something on his phone, blonde hair brushing his cheeks, and suddenly Wedge's heart is pounding for no reason he can determine.

He's never met the man before, Wedge knows that. There's nothing really familiar about him, nothing special. So why can't he stop staring?

The man puts his phone away and glances out the window, allowing Wedge to get a look at his face. Aristocratic features, bright blue eyes that make Wedge's stomach jolt.

He's attractive, that much is obvious. But can that really be it? Wedge scoffs at himself, makes himself avert his gaze. He's never been one for stories of love at first sight, nor is he much for gawking at strangers on public transit. Still...

He glances back, and the man is still looking out the window. There's that strange lurch in his guts again, the pounding of his heart. The train stops at a station, and the blond gets off.

Pure instinct pulls Wedge after him. He barely realizes what he's done until the doors are closing again, the sound of the train pulling away behind him jerking him back to reality. The man hasn't looked back, is heading for the edge of the platform.

Wedge follows, still no idea what he's doing, until a single word pops from his mouth of its own accord.

“Tycho.”

The man freezes and turns, curiosity in those crystal blue eyes. Closer, their color is even more striking. “How do you know my name?”

Maybe it's the sound of his voice, completely unchanged, that does it.

Wedge opens his mouth to say – he really has no idea what – and that's when something in his head explodes.

Sharp pain stabs at his temples, but that's not what takes his breath away. It's the images that assault him, flashing through his head almost too fast to take in: a burning space station, a strange cross-shaped vehicle, people and planets of every description. Words and phrases he's never heard before: X-wing, Death Star, Rebel Alliance, New Republic, Rogue Squadron, Wraith Squadron, Lusankya...

And faces. So many faces and names. People he's known, in another world, another _galaxy_. Another life.

Among them, Tycho.

It hits Wedge like a punch to the gut. Tycho Celchu. His best friend, his partner, the man he loved more than anything in that foreign, faraway place. Tycho, who stands before him now, with shorter hair and different clothes, but _him_ nonetheless. _Tycho._

“Tycho.” His voice is low and shaky. He doesn't know what he's just experienced, but he knows it was real. He's no longer who he thought he was.

“Wedge.” The look on Tycho's face is as stricken as Wedge has ever seen another person, and in that moment he has no doubt the other man has just experienced exactly what he has. He knows, too.

Tycho lifts a trembling hand, and Wedge holds absolutely still as he reaches out, fingertips brushing his face. They both gasp softly.

“It's really you,” Tycho breathes.

“This is...” Wedge is at a complete loss for words. His entire world has just been turned inside out in the space of a minute, and he's having trouble coping. “I–”

Tycho manages to look away, and Wedge follows his gaze – to the train stop they're still standing in the middle of. “We should go somewhere,” Tycho says, voice still low and rough with emotion. “My apartment is nearby?”

Wedge can only nod. “Okay.”

They walk side by side down the city street. Wedge can't stop staring at the familiar face, so beloved and known yet strange and new at once.

Tycho is watching him, too, and after a few more steps, his hand lifts toward Wedge's. “Can I–?”

There's a soft sort of desperation in his voice Wedge can relate to. His takes his hand, squeezes it gently, a tension in his own chest easing at the look of relief it brings to Tycho's face.

They reach the apartment building, and Tycho lets them inside, leading Wedge to his home. Wedge is eager to see inside, and he smiles when he does, because of course. It's simple and clean, a few pieces of elegant furniture, the art on the walls the real focus: gorgeous landscapes and framed poetry. In one corner, an overflowing bookshelf.

Tycho drops down onto the couch like his legs can no longer hold him up, pulling Wedge with him. He just sits there for long moments, still clutching Wedge's hand, staring into his face. “I don't know what this is,” he admits quietly.

Wedge shakes his head slowly, still at a loss. “Reincarnation?” he asks shakily, and it sounds ridiculous, but in his gut it feels right. It's so strange, like looking at his life is now some kind of magic eye puzzle. From one angle, the life he's lived here on Earth. From another, everything that came before in that other place. He knows in his bones both are equally real.

“Has to be,” Tycho breathes, “but why? Why now, why...?”

“I don't know.” Wedge squeezes his hand again, grateful this didn't happen when he was alone, that they can work through it together. That Tycho is _here._ “What do you remember?”

“So much,” Tycho answers, and he sounds as overwhelmed as Wedge feels, eyes wide. “But not everything, I think.” He swallows. “Wars and ships and fighting. So much fighting. But good times, too. You.” He gives Wedge a tremulous smile. “You're there through all of it.” His free hand drifts toward Wedge's face again as if he can't quite help it, fingers gently tracing the shape of his chin, his cheek, his temple. “Is this okay?”

Wedge nods, letting out a shaky breath as his hand closes over Tycho's, holding him close. “I'm not seeing anyone,” he blurts, then bites his lip. “Not that I assume, you know...” He squeezes his eyes closed, a cold pang in his heart. He won't assume that he and Tycho will fall back together like they were in that other life; they've just met again, they have lives here. It might not work.

“Me either...” Tycho's face creases. “Do you think I don't still want you? God, Wedge, it's _you_. I've been having to hold myself back from kissing you since you first said my name back at the train station.”

“Then stop.”

Tycho frowns, pulling his hand away, and it takes Wedge a moment to understand.

“No, I mean” – he grabs Tycho's arm, pulls him forward again – “stop holding back. Kiss me.”

Tycho smiles then, the beautiful, subtle curve of his lips Wedge has always known so well that makes his heart skip several beats. He leans in, cups Wedge's face in his hands, and brushes their lips together. The touch is tentative at first, a soft question, but it's quickly answered as Wedge responds, gripping Tycho's wrists to keep him close as he kisses back.

It's like coming home. Like returning to a place he's never been but somehow knows beyond a doubt he belongs, and Wedge's heart is singing. This is what he's been waiting for all his life.

And he can feel the rest of his body responding, too, heat flickering to life in his gut and spreading out. He lets it go for now, just soaking in the feeling of Tycho under his hands, his lips. Of _Tycho_.

When they're forced to pull apart for breath, Tycho presses his forehead against Wedge's, panting. He curses softly, says, trembling and honest, “I want you.”

“Yes.”

Tycho blinks, pulling back far enough to look at him, pleasant surprise on his face. “Yes?”

Wedge nods, holding his hands again. He flushes, looks away, tries to make a joke of it. “I'm not usually the type to put out on the first date, but...”

A gentle hand guides him back to look at Tycho. “Same Wedge,” he murmurs and kisses him again.

There's intent behind it this time, not just a quiet hello, but _desire_ , pure and simple, and Wedge trembles beneath it. Knowing his want is reciprocated, he lets himself feel it, the heat spreading through his body, blooming ardently in the places where Tycho touches him. He can feel his cock stiffening in response, and he longs for Tycho to touch him there. It's been a long time for Wedge, and he doesn't remember the last time it was like this. Was it ever like this?

Tycho sits back on the couch, smiling as he takes Wedge in, and Wedge imagines how debauched he looks already. “Let me show you to my room,” Tycho says lightly, and he stands, taking Wedge's hand and tugging him after him.

Wedge doesn't need to be told twice. He clutches Tycho's hand and follows him down the hall into the bedroom, takes it in briefly. Like the living area, done up in white and pale gray, a large desk dominating one wall, the bed in the middle looking big and comfortable. It's unmade, blankets and pillows thrown every which way from when he'd gotten up that morning, and Wedge's heart clenches with fondness. He hasn't changed either.

Tycho sees him looking and says with a grin, “It'll look even better with you in it.”

Wedge laughs, feeling himself flush as Tycho pulls him into his arms again. Another quick kiss, and then Tycho is undressing him. The fingers undoing his buttons are efficient, confident as they push it off his shoulders, and Wedge closes his eyes for a moment as images flash through his head, so many times Tycho had stripped him out of his flight suit or dress uniform or civilian clothes just like this.

Wedge reciprocates, pulling Tycho's dress shirt out of his pants and getting his hands under it, reveling in the feeling of warm skin under his fingers. Tycho takes pity on him and undoes the buttons, pulling it off and tugging Wedge close, bare chests pressed together. Wedge nuzzles into his neck, just breathing him in for a long moment. It feels so right.

His hands play over every inch of Tycho's skin he can reach, relearning him. It's the same body he was used to, but different too. The galaxy of scars he once knew is entirely gone. This Tycho hasn't known the pain his past self did, and Wedge is grateful for that.

Tycho recaptures his attention by palming his ass, bringing their hips together, and Wedge gasps with it, the sensation of Tycho's clothed cock against his spiking pleasure up his spine. “Fuck,” he breathes, and Tycho grins breathlessly.

“That's the idea,” he murmurs back, and his hands skim Wedge's waist, then pause on his belt buckle, wide eyes meeting his. “May I?”

Wedge nods wordlessly, mirroring him, and moments later they've managed to get each other completely naked.

“God, look at you,” Tycho breathes, his eyes raking up and down Wedge's body. “You're beautiful.”

Wedge's cheeks go hot. “Speak for yourself.”

Tycho pulls him in for a kiss, slow and deep, and Wedge's stomach jolts as Tycho gets a hand around the both of them and stokes slow and steady. Wedge whines softly, thrusting into the grip, against Tycho's cock, wanting more.

“How do you want to do this?” Tycho asks, a bit breathless.

“Like always,” Wedge answers, not needing to think about it as more images and feelings bubble up in the back of his mind. Tycho above him, Tycho inside him... A quiet moan of anticipation hitches in his throat.

Tycho jerks a nod and steps back. “On the bed,” he says, a little unsteady, and as Wedge goes, Tycho opens a drawer and retrieves a bottle of lube and a condom.

Wedge swallows hard, knowing the moment is close. He wants so bad he's practically vibrating with it.

Tycho comes back to the bed, gently parts Wedge's legs and kneels between them. “Tell me,” he manages between ragged breaths, “if I'm doing anything you don't like. I don't want to hurt you.”

“You won't,” Wedge promises, watching intently as Tycho uncaps the lube. He knows Tycho would never do that, in any life.

Tycho smiles softly at him, seeming to appreciate the reassurance. He warms the lube in his hands for a few moments, then reaches for him, and Wedge's entire body hitches at his touch.

“Good,” Wedge breathes as Tycho starts to ask a question. “ _Please-_ ”

“I've got you,” Tycho murmurs, and his fingers circle Wedge's entrance as his other hand returns to his cock, grip warm and smooth and snaking pleasure through Wedge's gut.

Moments later, one finger is easing into him, and Wedge sinks teeth into his lip, willing his body to relax. “All right?” Tycho asks, and he can only nod, soft sounds trickling from his lips when another finger joins the first.

It doesn't take long before Wedge is moving against him, trying to take more, his body so very eager. Tycho withdraws, leaving him horribly empty for long seconds as he slides on the condom and lubes himself up, then leans over him.

“I'm ready,” Wedge pants before Tycho can ask, and his eyes squeeze closed again as he feels the head of Tycho's cock resting against him.

“Let me see you, Wedge,” Tycho says softly, and Wedge forces them open again, sees his own feelings mirrored in Tycho's face, overwhelmed and on edge. Then he's moving, splitting Wedge open in every way, pressing in slow and easy, and Wedge's mouth works on a silent cry.

Tears leak from his eyes as Tycho settles himself inside him like he's always belonged there. They slide down the sides of Wedge's face as he struggles to breathe evenly. This is it, the thing he's been missing for so long without even knowing. How could he ever have forgotten?

Tycho stills when he's fully enveloped, giving him time to adjust, and leans in to rest their foreheads together. “You're supposed to be happy right now,” he teases gently, but his voice is uneven.

“I am,” Wedge manages, the words so, so inadequate to convey what he's feeling. He wraps his arms around Tycho, holding him close, breathes his name almost reverently because he still can't quite believe it.

“I'm here,” Tycho murmurs and shifts enough to brush their lips together. And then Wedge feels more wetness against his face and realize he's not the only one crying. “I–” Tycho's voice chokes off, too full of emotion.

“I love you,” Wedge finishes when he can't. It's only fair that Tycho said it first last time, and now it's him. And he means it with all his heart. It would be foolish, dangerous even, if they had really just met today, but they both know that's not the case.

Tycho kisses him again, pressing the words into his mouth, and then he begins to move. All Wedge can do is cling to him, knowing this won't last as long as he wants it to. It's too overwhelming, too good, Tycho solid and real around and inside him, grounding him like he never has been before.

Wedge is already close, and he thinks Tycho knows by the way he clutches as his back, desperation in the way he moves under him. Tycho gets a hand between them, touching Wedge just the way he likes, guiding him toward the peak as he kisses him again, deep, drinking in his cry when the pleasure suddenly becomes too much and Wedge shudders though his release.

Wedge drifts, just aware of Tycho's movements as he chases his own orgasm. Wedge tries to help, clenches weakly around him, hearing Tycho gasp his name as he topples over the edge, going rigid for a second before all but collapsing atop him.

For awhile they just lay there together, panting, arms around each other, reality settling in. This is real. They're together, reunited in every way.

“Stay,” Tycho murmurs finally into the silence, shifting his weight off of Wedge and turning his face into his neck. “Stay the night.”

“Yeah, of course.” Wedge can't even imagine leaving his side now. Part of him is still afraid this is all going to evaporate like a dream at any moment. Which is probably why he starts when Tycho moves to get up. “Where are you going?”

“I'll be right back,” Tycho says with a smile, giving him a peck on the cheek before padding across the room and out the door. Wedge hears water running across the hall, then Tycho is returning with a damp cloth.

He gently wipes the sweat and come from Wedge's body, and the care and intimacy is nearly as good as the the sex itself, Wedge letting out shivery little noises of pleasure as Tycho cleans him. Then he turns the cloth on himself, and when he's done tosses it across the room into a hamper before settling back in next to Wedge.

Wedge closes his eyes, just breathing, taking in the feel of Tycho beside him. He thinks Tycho is doing the same.

“Wedge?” he asks quietly after awhile.

“Hmm?” Wedge pries his eyes open, tries to beat back drowsiness.

“Do you need anything?”

Wedge shakes his head, letting his eyes fall closed again as he cuddles just a little closer to him. “'M fine.”

He can feel Tycho's smile against his skin as he slips into sleep.

 

Wedge wakes up in a strange bed, and for a moment he panics. Then, everything comes back, only slightly less overwhelming than before, clicking into place. He thinks of Tycho beside him in bed again, his heart so full, and reaches for him.

Only to find emptiness. Wedge blinks blearily, coming more awake, wondering where he's gone. The lights in the room have been turned off, and he can't see a clock. How much time has passed?

That's when he hears a noise coming from outside the room. Someone crying.

Wedge's heart thumps as he eases out of the bed and goes to the bedroom door. It's cracked maybe an inch, a thin line of light filtering in across the floor. Through it, he can see the living room, a dim lamp in one corner fighting the darkness. Facing away from him is a tall chair, blond hair just visible above the top of the headrest.

Tycho's voice drifts back to him. “I'm sorry, I just needed to hear your voice.” A pause. “No, Mom, I'm not drunk.” A wet little chuckle. “No, not that either. It was just a nightmare.”

He must be on the phone, then. Wedge suddenly feels like he's intruding. He shouldn't be listening to this. He should go back to bed. But Tycho sounds so upset...

“You were gone,” Tycho is saying, soft and trembling. “Dad and Skoloc and Mia and Cara, too. I was all alone. And I felt like I was responsible somehow. It was awful.” Another pause. “Yeah, I know, dreams are weird. I know it wasn't real, but I just...yeah. Yeah. I love you too. I'm sorry I called so late.” He lets out a long breath. “I know. I appreciate it. I'm gonna go now. Yes, I'll call tomorrow. Okay. Bye.” A soft beep indicates the end of the call, and Tycho sighs.

Wedge pushes open the door, and Tycho turns to look at him over the top of the chair, just a little sheepish. “You heard that?”

Wedge nods, stopping beside the chair and letting himself reach out to smooth Tycho's sleep-tousled hair. “Are you okay?”

Tycho doesn't answer at first. His eyes are full and shiny. “I didn't remember Alderaan before,” he says after awhile. “It came back to me as a nightmare.” He shudders. “It kills me that I can't tell her the truth. At least she's still here. I never lost any of them this time around.”

“I'm glad.” It's coming back to Wedge, too, now, where he was when he first heard about the planet's destruction. His own shock and terror. Then meeting Tycho and finding out what happened to him, learning his pain and helping him through it over the years.

“Your parents?” Tycho asks, looking up at him again. “And your sister?”

“Nothing ever happened to them either,” Wedge answers, blinking away the image in the back of his mind of that burning space station.

Tycho nods silently, then he reaches up for Wedge, pulls him down into his lap, into his arms. “Maybe that's what this is,” he murmurs against him. “The galaxy treated us so roughly in that other life; maybe this is our second chance at happiness.”

“Maybe.” Wedge says, kissing Tycho gently. “I'd like to be happy with you. Even happier than before.”

Tycho gives a shaky little laugh, holding him tight. “I know this isn't going to be easy,” he says. “I know it's weird, and we're going to have to talk and figure stuff out, but I want that. I still love you just as much as I always did.”

Wedge squeezes his hand, thinks once again of how _right_ this all feels, like a missing puzzle piece slotting into his life. “Me, too. Don't doubt it for a second.”


End file.
